Broken Images
by Rosa D'inverno
Summary: It was Valentine's Day, and the last thing Fuji Syuusuke wanted was a kiss from a stranger.
1. Valentine's Day: Part One

Disclaimer: Nothing of _Tennis_ belongs to me.

A/N: Be warned! This is not a love story, nor a fluffy fic. It's been a long time since I last wrote, and I realized I do miss writing. So, read and review - Let me know how you feel about this one.

* * *

He had been reading Shakespeare that day.

In a bid to escape the crowds outside on the university campus, he made his way to the library, knowing that on a day like this, no one would think of going there.

A day like this. A day he never appreciated. Even if he believed in the notion of true love, this whole flowers and chocolates charade that lovers indulge in turned him off. Love was never meant to be showcased.

Having decided to boycott the love sonnets, he headed straight for the section where he knew he would find the tragic plays. Was he in a mood to feel melancholic? He didn't know, for all he felt like doing that day was simply to immerse himself in the world of heroic figures falling, falling from the great heights. Call him a sadist, call him Fuji Syuusuke.

He chose a secluded spot near the French windows in the library. There never was a rule that tragic plays had to be read in the gloomy darkness. He enjoyed sitting there by himself, savoring the solitude of reading.

That was when fate decided to intervene in the form of another lover of Shakespeare.

* * *

He heard the mutterings, but chose to ignore them.

The soft female voice paused for a second and Fuji let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He takes a swift glance to his left, and identifies the girl. Her long hair falls forward as she bends down to search through the bookshelves. Not bothering to shift in his seat, Fuji waits patiently for her face to be revealed. He didn't have to wait long. With an absent-minded gesture, she sweeps her hair back and tucks the errant strands behind her right ear. She resumes her standing position, and Fuji notices a slight frown on her pretty face.

As if she sensed someone's glance, the female in question turns and takes a look in his direction.

The light shining from behind him casts a shadow around her, and the brightness envelops her somehow.

Her eyes wandered over his frame, and he resists the urge to flinch. For the first time in his life, Fuji is not the one doing the observing.

Her gaze rests on the cover of the text in his hands, and with a slight nod, she turns and moves away from him.

He didn't expect her to stay.

She didn't.

What he missed out on in his calculations was how she came back hours later.

* * *

By then, he had already finished the play, and with the ending resonating in his mind, he closes his eyes briefly.

The day's last rays of light streamed in through the glass windows, leaving him with bright white spots in his mind's eyes.

A soft touch on his lips rouses him from the sleep he fell into.

Barely concealing the look of surprise on his face, he stares into the eyes of the person standing in front of him.

_Had it been a dream?_

Shakespeare does have a way of inducing a world of fanciful images.

He didn't have a chance to ask. By the time he picked up the book that had fallen to the floor, she had already left. For the second time.

The only scrap of evidence she left behind was an image.

The burning image of her cerulean orbs looking into his.


	2. Valentine's Day: Part Two

Disclaimer: Nothing of _Tennis_ belongs to me.

A/N: Here it is, the story from the female's POV. I am thinking of writing a few one-shots based on this pair - but I'll need more scenarios to work on. Hopefully, my imagination will be able to provide some creative ideas. So once again, do read and review!

* * *

She went to the library because of him.

On a day like this, she should be out there, celebrating in the love of the season. She should be out there, laughing without a care for the world. Only, on a day like this…the world belongs to the lovers.

And she is not part of that world. Neither is he.

Not yet.

* * *

The light flowing in from behind him created a halo effect at the top of his head. When she turned to look in his direction, all she saw was an image of a fallen angel. A fallen angel with a painted, smiling mask.

She had a feeling he would be there. She anticipated his presence, but as usual, she failed to still her beating heart. She knew he would not recognize her, but that didn't bother her. She didn't come to be recognized, she came to satisfy her own curiosity.

They had a class together last week. The professor wanted them to share a passage or a quote they liked, and the class was supposed to guess the source. He was the last to present, and when he started to speak, she felt a sudden urge to tear that smile off his face. Violent of her, yes. But that is because she could read the suppressed emotions behind that smile, the haunting look behind that mask. And strangely, it pained her to see him like that.

Trapped by his own genius; his need to maintain his reputation. Yet, not really giving a damn about what others thought of him. What he cares about is what he thinks of himself.

He does not allow others to be close to him, because there is a chance that all they might find in him is an empty shell. Not at all as interesting as he portrays himself to be.

But she looks past that. His façade is what first drew her to him, but it is those unguarded moments when he lets slip his true self that keeps her eyes fixed on him.

* * *

She returned to the library for the book.

She didn't expect him to still be there.

When she saw him seated and leaning against the wall, with his brown hair covering part of his closed eyes, she felt that that would be the closest she would get to knowing the real Fuji Syuusuke.

She walks up to him, and stands there, silently watching him as he sleeps. Her own features soften as she sees how vulnerable he looks, just sitting there.

Tentatively, she brushes the stray strands of hair away from his eyes, and leans forward to lightly brush her lips against his.

_He smelled like the sea._

His eyes flickered open slowly, revealing a sense of disorientation.

For them, it was like looking into a mirror. Blue on blue.

She kissed him because she wanted to see the color of his eyes.

She kissed him because she wanted to see, even for a moment, who Fuji Syuusuke really is.

She left with an answer.


End file.
